Jon had long lost count of how many times he went tracking in the wild with his mother. What was once something new and exciting had turned into a routine, which is why he had to force himself to pay attention. It was a strange mix of emotions. The boredom of tracking with his distaste for killing. Not a great combination for a hunter. If not for the fact that this literally put food on their table, then he might not bother. Or, more realistically, his mother would force him to.

His disinterest with hunting was proportional to the growing passion with cultivation. He felt the improvements with each passing day. When Dene moved to attack, he was able to follow her movements and, rarely, foresee where she would strike. When she inevitably managed to hit him, her blows hurt less and healed faster. And that was despite her putting more and more strength into the attacks.

Even memorizing the always incomprehensible spell formulas turned into fun challenges before going to sleep.

While he hadn’t had another advance in cultivation, Dene guessed it should be close. Soon he’d become a third level Fighter. As for becoming an Initiate, they could only guess when it would happen.

“Where are we going?” Jon finally asked after two hours of wandering through the forest without a clear direction. Throughout this time, he had noticed different sets of animal tracks, which meant Dene definitely noticed them too. And yet she ignored them all.

“Hunting,” his mother answered curtly. In one hand she held one of her swords to cut through the vegetation and in the other a shovel.

“No need to walk this far for a deer.”

“We’re after something much more dangerous.” She didn’t stop walking as she turned around to look at him. “Have you been maintaining the swords as I taught you?”

Jon brought both hands behind his head and drew the weapons from his back. The blades glistened, their lengths covered in a fine layer of oil. The few scratches received during training had been polished off.

Dene nodded at that. “Good, you’re going to need them today.”

It had been little more than a week since Jon received the weapons and yet they already felt like an extension of his body. The blades were light enough that he could almost forget he was holding them, but also strong enough that his mother couldn’t break them as easily as she did to the iron ones.

At the time, he wondered why the blacksmith went through the effort of crafting an additional pair just to trick them. Northerners seemed to prefer longswords, so the second pair of shortswords would at most be melted down. Taking the additional work into account, Jon doubted the blacksmith would make any profit.

“They hate us, and emotion clouds the mind,” was his mother’s reasoning when asked. Jon failed to think of another explanation.

They continued walking for a while with her leading the way. Eventually, they came across a set of tracks in the dirt unlike any Jon had seen that day. For starters, they were human.

The footprints were uneven with deep prints to the right and a shallow row to the left, as if the person was dragging one foot. Probably a man from the size of it. Every once in a while the footprints were accompanied by sets of handprints. Whoever he was, the man could barely stay on his feet.

The tracks didn’t look fresh, and so Jon had little hope that the owner might still be alive. Still, they should follow. Both to give him a proper burial and to loot anything of value left behind.

“Here it is,” Dene said. “That’s what we’re after.”

Jon’s eyes opened wide. “We’re hunting people now?”

“Not a person.” She cut through the vegetation to arrive at the edge of a deep river, and Jon finally realized how far they must have walked. Dene made sure to educate him on Greenflower’s geography and its surroundings. Beyond that river they would be entering Knight’s Crossing, ruled by Earl Skanler. As bad as Greenflower might be, working for the baron meant they were also under the noble’s protection while in his lands. Whatever they did, they should never leave the barony.

Dene sheathed her sword. She caressed the trunk of a tree, and that’s when Jon noticed the dark red marks on the bark. There were more blood marks further north, the same direction the river flowed. A bloody handprint on a large rock, leaves sprinkled with red, and eventually a dead deer with its guts strewn about.

The snout was half immersed in the water, being washed away by the flowing river. The eyes had been eaten out and the neck missed a large chunk from a bite. Half-eaten bowels spilled from a large opening on its side, near the hind legs.

Jon suspected wolves. They were a threat to both farmers and livestock alike, even more so when hungry. As the huntswoman, it fell on his mother’s shoulders to cull their population.

Jon looked around, making sure that whatever did it wasn’t nearby. Then he prodded the wound with a stick so that he may peer inside. There were no maggots nor rotting, so the kill was fresh. The liver and kidneys, usually the first to be eaten, remained intact. He saw no opening in the chest, so the heart was probably fine too.

Dene leaned close to his ear. “What do you see?”

“Most organs are untouched. First I thought of wolves, but they wouldn’t leave the deer behind without eating more of it. Unless… were they scared away perhaps?”

“Maybe.” She circled around the carcass and knelt down on the other side, her hand brushing the dead animal’s blood-soaked fur. “But what could scare a pack of wolves away from their meal?”

Jon wanted to say a bear, but they wouldn’t leave without eating more of the carcass either. It made no sense to eat only the eyes and the bowels. Besides, if a bear had scared them away then there would be paw marks. Other than the deer’s hooves, the only tracks Jon saw were their own plus the ones from the man they had been following.

“Did that man do this?” Jon asked, unable to think of another culprit.

“I told you, that’s not a person. Not anymore. This is the work of a ghoul.”

“What is that?”

“A monster, that’s what it is. On rare occasions, if a person dies without receiving the proper rites, they might rise again as ghouls, flesh-eating monstrosities. Some say that’s due to the soul remaining stuck in the body, unable to join with whatever god they follow. Others instead claim that the creatures are always the work of evil necromancers, spellcasters focused on defiling the souls and bodies of the dead. I say not to worry about where they come from.”

Dene stood up again. “Worry about putting them where they should be in the first place. Buried underground with their grotesque head detached from the body. That’s what I want you to do today.”

Jon blinked. “Me? I’ve only just found out these things exist.”

“So long as you don’t forget our training it will be fine. I’m certain the ghoul was only a Fighter before dying. It is more resilient as an undead, but the lack of intelligence makes it less of a threat. It will charge at you like a raging drunkard, so focus on dodging and the chance to counter will appear on its own. I expect you’ll have no problem killing it.”

Jon took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. If she expected him to succeed, then he better not disappoint. “Any advice on how to kill it?”

“At first ghouls appear lethargic or even unresponsive. Don’t be fooled. They can spring into action at a moment’s notice. I imagine that’s how it managed to catch the deer by surprise.” She pointed back to where they found the first blood marks. “The deer walked by what it thought to be a dead body and paid the price for its carelessness. Remember this. A snake’s bite is nothing compared to a ghoul’s. For starters they can rip out flesh.”

Jon glanced again at the deer’s neck and nodded. “Don’t let the ghoul bite me, got it.” The trail continued further down the riverbank and he followed it. He stopped after realizing he was walking alone. “Mother?”

The shovel landed by Jon’s feet. Dene remained standing near the carcass. She shook her head at him. “I told you, this is your task to resolve. Come straight home once you’re done and don’t forget to bury the thing after you cut off its head. I expect you’ll be able to find the way back on your own.” Having said that, she turned around and left.